Forgive
by Midnight's Angelic Guardian
Summary: An exploration of what Aerith's last night might have been like, with overtones of AerithSephiroth romance. Basically, takes you through the night and day before her death, directly up through her final moments.


Title: Forgive

Author: Midnight's Angelic Guardian

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever, owned any part of the Final Fantasy empire. It belongs to Squaresoft/SquareEnix, Playstation and Eidos Interactive. I am not affiliated with any of the above companies or organizations. I do, however, own two copies of FFVII, one on PC, one on Playstation, and a nice, shiny copy of FFX, all of which I had to pay for. So don't sue me, I've spent all my money on games.

Author's Note: This was written a few months ago, as kind of a random thing to exercise my brain and try to get over writers block. The idea evolved in my head, eventually spawning a full on sequel series. But this was the beginning. It isn't perfect, but it's as good as I can get it right now. Maybe later I'll revisit it and fix some things that I'm not quite happy with, but for now, here it is. Enjoy, and please review and help me figure out what I can fix.

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Aerith felt the pangs of separation from the group that had become almost like her family in the short time she had known them. She knew, somehow, that the time she had spent with them would be some of the best times of her life. But she also knew that she had a duty to perform, and so she had been forced to leave.

It was late, several hours past dusk, when Aerith crawled out of her tent to gaze again on the place of her death. It was amazing, she thought, how little the thought of her own death impacted her. She would prefer to live, certainly, but the fact that she was dying didn't really change how she went about her daily routine. She had known for a long while that her life was on a countdown and the thought didn't bother her so much now as it did at the beginning.

As she gazed silently over the city, she thought back over her life, trying to remember as much as possible of the people she had grown to care about. She tried to remember even the most insignificant details. She remembered how Yuffie poured orange juice over the unsweetened cereals they got whenever they stayed at an actual inn, and how Cid sheltered the tiny white kitten they had found, though everyone attributed its care to herself. She remembered how Tifa looked at Cloud, and how Cloud looked back at Tifa when she wasn't looking, adoration clear in both of their gazes. She remembered the happiness that lit up Cait Sith's face whenever he gave a fortune, whether or not it was correct, and how Barrett smiled so softly whenever he looked at the pictures of Marlene that he always carried with him. She remembered how Nanaki always seemed to know the right thing to say, no matter how desolate people were feeling.

But the memory she kept closest to her heart, and to herself, about their little mismatched group, was how Vincent looked at Yuffie, the girl whose enthusiasm seemed to put everyone else off. His stares contained within them fascination and an emotion almost approaching horror whenever Yuffie got into one of her more rambunctious moods, but under every emotion he cloaked a slight confusion and ever-growing warmth for the Materia-loving Ninja. The gazes he gave to her lent hope to Aerith, that somewhere, when this was all over, someone might be happy. And the reciprocating glances Yuffie gave to Vincent when no one else noticed, her forever-bubbly nature going more solemn for mere moments as she tried to figure the dark assassin out, just added strength to Aerith's beliefs.

Aerith had strong memories of her family, of both Elmyra and her true mother and father. The memories were both good and bad, but the good memories far outweighed the bad. She remembered freshly baked cookies, hot right out of the oven, eaten in the kitchen of the small paradise she and her stepmother carved for themselves in the slums of Midgar below the plate. She remembered gardening with Elmyra, as well as gardening at the home of her true mother and father. All her memories of both her mothers were scented with flowers and fresh baking. Memories of her father tended to keep with them the faint smell of chemicals and fire, though it wasn't overpowering the way it was in the laboratory of Shinra. She loved the smell of her father most, she thought. It was distinctive, and hot and peaceful. It smelled safe, protected, like nothing could ever harm her.

Footsteps behind her drew Aerith from her memories. "Hello Jenova," she stated without turning around.

The footsteps paused momentarily, then continued, stopping just behind and to her right. "There is no Jenova here," the soft tones of Sephiroth's calm voice stated. "It's only me."

Aerith allowed herself to smile slightly, though it was somewhat pained. She looked over her shoulder and up, into the face of one of her closest childhood friends. "Sephiroth," she whispered softly, turning back to face the city.

He sighed deeply, looking at the city as well. "So, this is where it is going to happen."

Aerith made a noise of confirmation.

"You know I cannot stop it."

Again, confirmation.

"I would stop it if I could, Aerith. Please believe that."

"I know you would."

"So you don't blame me?"

"No."

The pair fell into silence again, both looking at the city that would cause their own deaths, in one way or another.

It was Aerith who broke the silence this time. "I've wondered, just what she thinks this is going to accomplish."

There was no need for Sephiroth to ask who 'she' was, they both knew. "She believes it will bring her world back. She believes it will make her a goddess again."

"And what do you believe?"

"I believe it will kill me and the woman I love."

He stated it so frankly that Aerith could do nothing but believe the same.

They stared out at the city again, silent. Everything that could be said between them had already been said.

Aerith turned to Sephiroth when she couldn't bear to look at the city any more. "Sephiroth," she stated softly, stopping without any more words.

The look on his face said he recognized what she was saying without the need for her to actually articulate her invitation. He took her hand into his, bringing it to his lips and kissing the back gently. He turned it over in his hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. He took up her other hand and performed the same ministrations to it, then pressed a gentle kiss to Aerith's forehead.

Aerith took his hands in return and gently pulled him toward her tent, guiding him inside and bringing him to his knees as she sank to hers.

Aerith leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on his lips, allowing only one single tear to slip down her cheek silently. Her tear was mirrored by one on his face as she reached out for him and gently pushed his coat off his shoulders. His hands moved and began slowly releasing the buttons on the front of her dress.

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When Aerith woke in the morning, she was alone, but she expected that. She smiled, her first genuinely painless smile in months and contented herself with just lying there for several more minutes, trying to imprint everything of that last night together on her memory, knowing she would not want to remember him how he will be the next time she sees him. Finally, Aerith could lie there no longer and she forced herself to stand up.

As she was packing her things to leave, she saw the final gift Sephiroth had given her. Tears welled up in her eyes and she smiled as she carefully weaved the delicate silver ribbon into her own braid, adding that piece of him to her.

Aerith finished cleaning and packing away her camp once she was certain Sephiroth's ribbon was not going to come loose from her braid, and began the hike down to the city.

Upon reaching the gorgeous city, Aerith sat down on a step and just thought, for hours, about everything. She gazed around her absently, and then nodded to herself. Yes, this city was as good a place as any to die, and better than most.

She looked up at the sky and, seeing that it was getting late, took her Princess Guard in her hands and hefted her things to her shoulder. She began her hike to the alter where she knew she was going to die at the hands of her best friend and lover. Strangely, she felt more comforted by the knowledge that Sephiroth was going to be her killer than she had anticipated. She knelt down in the middle of the large alter after leaving her things out of the way, and began praying.

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In the middle of the night, Cloud heard a scream where the group had been camping, and, after waking everyone, ran down into the city.

Aerith was praying, a smile on her face, when they reached her. Sephiroth was standing near her, and he attempted to manipulate Cloud into killing Aerith himself, but when the others were able to stop him, Sephiroth turned to Aerith, grasping his Masamune carefully.

Their eyes met for the last time, and both tried to express their feelings in that one glance. Sephiroth's eyes filled with all the love he possessed for the gentle Cetra kneeling before him, and her gaze reciprocated all that love just as strongly.

Sephiroth was able to free himself from Jenova long enough to mouth the words 'I love you', before the Ancient regained her power over him. His face hardened again, though his eyes lost none of their gentleness. Sephiroth leapt up in the air and came down, driving his Masamune straight through Aerith's chest and causing her to arch involuntarily.

A tear slipped unnoticed down Sephiroth's cheek as Aerith died. Just as her body went limp, he heard her voice in his head, though he was certain she couldn't have been speaking out loud.

He flew from the scene, leaving Jenova-LIFE to deal with Cloud and his friends. Sephiroth knew he would meet them again, but the time for that confrontation had not yet arrived. Until such time as Cloud came to deliver him from his prison and suffering, Sephiroth carried with him two things: the glint of silver he had seen shining in Aerith's braid, and the memory of her last words to him.

_Goodbye, Sephiroth, my love. You are forgiven._


End file.
